Backstreets
by DeathlyBurden
Summary: You are a backstreet drug handler. A dangerous job for someone with your secrets. Madam Blanc, a mask keeps your identity. Until a dangerous fall and two equally dangerous men you had it perfect, sleeping in abandoned factories. But what comes around goes around, doesn't it? Wanted, you run. Pursued, you hide. Searched for, you disappear into the night.
1. The Hunted Will Hide

Gahhhh I was so bored during the power outage that I write this

I'm sure it's fuckd up but u can't go all hatin on mi! I think this is actually the first fanfic I've posted...

Grrrrr this first chapter sucks nothing happens but I already hav the 2nd and 3rd chapters written up so I'll post them som time soon

I'd like it if u told me the flaws in this so I can becom a better writer

Also sadly I own none of the characters in this fic caus well I don't believ I own you but ~(-.-)~ we'll never know now will we and if you really think I own hetalia well im a rainbow mother fuckin unicorn who breaths fire and shoots lazers from my ass yuptie do

Try to enjoy~!

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Chapter 1~

You walk into the bar lifting yourself onto one of the stools cautiously.

You had bruises up your thighs and crawling down your back painting your (s /c) skin various shades of black and blue, and it hurt like hell sitting down.

Grimacing you order a hard beer and some shots hoping they might clear away the pain from the streets. You'd been caught stealing again from a local dealer. Of course you could defend yourself but a baseball bat is a baseball bat none the less.

The bartender comes back with your order and before he can warn you to take it easy with those shots, you lift one to your lips and drown yourself in its fiery burn. Doing the same with two more of the shots and chugging half the beer you look up to the horrified bartender and order five more.

Rushing away the bartender doesn't see you bottle the beer and drain the other shot glasses. Checking to see if he dares to look back at you, you see him timidly pouring the other shots no one would drinking while trying to settle down some upset customer on the other side of the bar. Newbie. You leap off the seat with new energy than before and make your way to the exit unnoticed.

That is, at least by most.

You can tell the bartender was still dealing with the customer from the pathetic racket your hear behind you.

You knew no one would care enough to try and stop you if they'd recognized you hadn't paid. You were clear.

On your way to the exit, gracefully making your way through the crowd of incoming people, you saw something catch your eyes.

Two emerald like orbs following your every step.

You analyzed the witness: Young, Male, Heavy Rolex, Dress suit though untucked; Wealthy Business man, Close to golden blond hair, Slightly messy, Thick eyebrows also golden though insanely sexy; English heritage, Piercing Green eyes, Only slight bags, No bloodshot; Not drunk... Shit

You quickly look away feeling his gaze still on you. You were angry as someone had seen you, not many did.

Continuing towards the exit you can tell he's still watching you.

From what you'd seen you know the man's no heavy drinker. He had a glass of almost untouched scotch in his hand that was also so  
transparent some would pass it for whiskey from far away. But you were no fool.

This was no good side of town. No man in a healthy mind state who was wearing a suit of that expense and a watch that like that would come down here to sip at a glass of scotch. Your were surprised, he'd made it this far without getting mugged.

But you could already tell he wasn't here for the bartenders cheap service liquor.

From the corner of your eye you saw him get up and pay the nearest waiter for his drink. You were close to sprinting at this point but you managed to keep your legs under control, walking out of the exit of the bar you didn't look back to see if he was following.

You weren't stupid. Everyone knows looking back when your being chased only slows you down more. You don't know who invented such stupid methods but they had been born into this world then kicked out of it not shortly after for their retardedly moronic logic. If you were going to die you didn't want to watch as your murderer shot you in the face

Turning the corner you heard the man exit the bar. You stopped at the opening of the alleyway watching him trying to decide whether to sprint or not. He looked both ways to see which way you'd went. Taking a device that looked similar to a phone out of his pocket he said a few words to whoever was on the other end before hanging up and turning the opposite direction you were in.

Both a mixture of relieved and perplexed you continued walking back towards the old factory you had been taking refuge in.

Arriving at the factory, you went around the side where part of what used to be a fire escape hung rusting.

Pulling a pair of gloves out of a compartment in your (color) leather jacket you put them on and jumped up grabbing lowest rung in the rusting latter. Heaving yourself up was tricky work due to all your sore muscles but the liquor would kick in and fix that sooner or later. When finally up on the old fire escape you made your way to the top of the rusty platforms and through the window located somewhere near half way up.

The factory doesn't really have the necessary household needs like a bed or refrigerator but you managed. It was just a place to stay when you weren't being chased by angry dealers or creeps who thought they could best you.

You would never say your blood was necessarily clean but you didn't do drugs, just stole them and resold them.

People who came looking for you didn't get past the third floor due to the stairwell kinda crashing in on itself which was useful seeing you decked out on the fifth.

Opening your (fav/c) suitcase in the corner of the room you pushed the pile of bills to one side and added two bottles of pills to the other. Hey. Money was money. If you sold a hopeless addict the same shit they bought from a dealer for a bit less they were all over you. You'd never call your business fair or just in that matter, but those money hoarding drug shot dealer assholes weren't any better than you. Sometimes you even considered yourself a hero for getting the drugs to people who couldn't pay for them. They were wasted over douce no veins*,but you couldn't help but pity them at times.  
Due to the many places you've been, you have an assortment of different currencies. It's all jumbled together in the (fav/c) suitcase along with the drugs that truthfully, you wouldn't touch if they didn't come in bottles or packets. It was disgusting what some people did to themselves.

Throwing the (fav/c) suitcase  
closed you crashed on the floor into the many blankets you'd either stolen or brought for the floor is hard against your abused limbs. Feeling the liquor start to kick in along with exhaustion you drift off and close your bloodshot (e/c) eyes, but only to find yourself dreaming of Emerald Green ones.

* * *

*no veins- when a person uses too many drugs that require a needle eventually they won't be able to find the veins they used to shoot the drugs into. Therefore I have dubbed them "no veins". I'm proud of my name so deal

yeah... i really hope this wasn't too crappy


	2. The Job The Jester

Sorry I was so late posting this I'd accidentally deleted it and had to rewrite it 'twas hell my friends 'twas hell

Anyway sorry for th horribl description of America and the horrifyingly disgusting grammar bt here's chapter two!

dont own hetalia if i did i wouldnt be writing this

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Chapter 2~

Walking through the streets your (fav/c) suitcase slung over your shoulder, you head for the abandoned storehouse where you sell your merchandise.

Hoisting the (fav/c) suitcase higher on your shoulder you hit a bruise hidden under your favorite (color) jacket. Wincing you let it rest a bit not wanting to irritate the already abused skin.

Your case is filled to the brim with your life savings and business along with a can of yellow spray paint. You also kept a mask in the case. Truthfully you would rather some of the people you sold to didn't know your real face. You didn't want one of your less faithful customers to recognize you. It could mean bad news the business you were in.

Arriving at the storehouse you start to setup though knowing the first of your customers won't start coming for a good half an hour.

You took a metal fold up chair that you'd decided to name 'hell in a seat' out of the corner of the shelter and placed it in the middle of the room. You'd never known a chair could be so hard before you moved to this shelter. A small metal table that had graffiti on the back and one leg shorter than the others served as your main desk. You didn't care for furnishing a place you'd abandon as soon as someone was onto you.

Checking your watch you see the first of your customers will start coming in about 5 minutes.

Pulling the white mask out of the case along with the resent drug packets you've collected you continue to setup until you have only 2 minutes to spare.

Tucking your (h/c) hair into the white face mask you pull the rest of it over your head. It's impossible for anyone to tell who you are when you wear the mask. If you didn't have to talk to your customers they most likely wouldn't know your gender either.

Sighing you sit down uncomfortably in the extremely hard metal chair, trying to find a position where you don't put to much pressure on any of your bruises which is impossible seeing it's so hard. You silently curse all metal fold up chairs.

Not long after you sit down in the god for shaken chair the first person comes in. You know this one, he is a regular. You believe Ramz is his name. He'd followed you once when you'd had to switch your business roof. He was as loyal as an addict could be.

When you have to switch your sell house you would leave a message for your customers to figure out. Usually spray painting it on one of the walls. You'd write something that would tell them where the next business roof would be.

Once you'd written' L train 14 Hundred 50'.It had referred to the elevated train in the city at the stop where 14th street meet 50th. Also that you would be there at 2:50 if any addict read military time. Many of your customers hadn't gotten this one and you'd lost several regulars but it turns out that some drug wasted no veins still had enough brains left to find their daily share. Over time new customers would hear of your business and find their way to you replacing lost customers.

He came up to the desk. Almost falling forward, he rested his hands on the ends of the table. His red dyed hair blond at the roots from lack of care was greasier than usual and the bags under his eyes were black circles surrounding them.

"Please tell me you have it today." his speech was a little funny due to the snake bites he had on his lips. But you could hear the exhaustion in his voice. If he didn't have something to get him high in the next two days he'd fall into withdrawal. That was never pretty. And he was one of your favorites.

I know, I know it's not really a good idea to like the people you sell to but where else were you supposed to meet people? The kids you meet at the bar just want to rape you. The creeps you find on the streets are no better. And it's not like you were interested in anyone of your customers! What was the harm?

He watched you sort through the packages you'd neatly set up along the table all labeled with either letters or numbers, you could care less. They meant nothing to you.

"I believe I do have what your looking for." you say calmly still searching for the correct bag. You feel him sigh relief but still the intensity of his gaze does not lessen.

"Please. I don't care what the charge is. I'll pay it. I don't care if you don't want money. I could care less if I'd have to give up my body, but I need those drugs. I'm dying."

You stop a moment when he mentions paying in other ways than money. Feeling heat rise to your face you try not to think about it and continue searching.

Coughing a bit you say, "No, I don't think that will be necessary. I didn't have much difficulties getting your order so I'll take normal payment." You were grateful for the mask covering your face because you could only imagine the look on it right now.

He himself looked a bit relieved at what you said, flushing a bit from his suggestion he fished a few bills out of his pocket along with a (fav chocolate brand) candy bar.

H2m+. Grabbing the packet you trade him the drugs for the bills and candy. He seemed to be one of the only ones who had taken up the option of giving you some food to lower the price of their pay.

"Thank you so much. You don't know how grateful I am."

You nod, "Any time I'll try to find some more of your serve. Would you like to order anything new?"

"No. I think I'm good for now ... Thanks again." he said as he left. You felt happy as he was so grateful to you. Like you'd saved him from some life threatening event.

Taking off your mask you took a bite of the candy bar savoring it's sweet taste in your mouth. You tried not to think about how you really weren't helping these people. Just giving them more reasons to continue this life where they were slowly destroyed themselves. And you were helping them...

You go through the rest of the day sitting in that god forsaken another bite of the chocolate you look at your watch. You are about to pack up when you sense a person standing outside the entrance.

Hearing the door click open you quickly pulled your mask back on. Putting the candy bar away in your jacket pocket you looked up to see an unfamiliar face.

He walked up to the table where you were seated and just stares at you for a while.

You observed the man in front of you. He was cute. Young, Slender, High jaw bones; Close to 27, Glasses, Chain necklace, Bomber's jacket, Worn jeans; hand-me-downs; Younger brother, Short brown hair, Cow lick, Slightly messy, Unbrushed; Lazy, Crystal Blue eyes, No bags, Not bloodshot; Non drug user.

He spoke distracting you from your thoughts.

"Are you Madam Blanc?" he said calmly. 'Madam Blanc' was your street name given to you by your customers. The name originated from the white mask you wore to hide your identity. The word Blanc meant white in Spanish. Though you'd never been in a city that had any Spanish culture, street names are odd indeed.

You could tell he wasn't here to order anything but you decide to go along with whatever he was playing at for now.

"That would be correct. And how, may I ask, did you hear of me?" a question you asked every new face that found their way to you.

"A friend." correct answer. Someone did his research. He was trying to get this to work. Whatever 'this' was you didn't know yet.

"And how may I be of service to you?" if he truly wanted something to get high off you knew he wouldn't have come looking for you.

"I would like to place-"

"I know you don't want to place an order. What is your motive of finding me?" you cut him off. This game was getting too old too fast and you weren't in the mood for playing. End of the line Pretty Boy.

He chuckled a bit at the ground seeing he'd been caught.

"So am I really that indecisive?" he asked looking up at you with a smile crystal blue eyes shining guilty into your own (e/c) ones.

"No," you answer him truthfully. "I just have to much practice for such a foolish little game go unseen."

"..." he shifts uncomfortably putting his hands in his pockets. He had been set on going by the plan he'd made in advance and now that it'd fallen through he was having quite the amount of difficultly playing it by ear.

"If you aren't here for any reason than to question my name and give me that address you have tucked away in your pocket I find that we have no business here."

His eyes flew open in shock and you rubbed your own a bit trying to clear away the sleep through the mask. You hadn't slept well the night before.

"How did y-"

"I saw you tuck it in as you walked through the door." you say yawning a bit due to exhaustion. "If you truly planned on leading me to that fake address so whoever was there could get hold of me you really should have been more cautious about the whole procedure."

He seemed both dumbfounded and annoyed at the same time, the mixed emotions swirled in his bright blue eyes. He truly had thought you'd fall for it. Whoever this kid was, he was more hopeless than some of your customers. Retard.

"So now that that's over with, I don't believe I find any interest in sharing much more time with you." seriously, he was wasting your time and you didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be, this goddamn chair was giving your ass cramps.

"You're a wanted women Madam Blanc. I would be careful if I were you. Your not liked by many people and some of those people aren't afraid to come after you."

"As I know am I both Wanted and Unliked by many I take the correct precautions so I can get by. I am not naïve, boy. I don't hide from the truth of my fate if I were to slip. So I don't."

Taking your suitcase out from under the table you open it and start to replace the packets into it.

You see his eyes wary over the stash of bills you have in the case. From what you can tell he surprised by what he sees. You always have a good amount on you but it's not like your walking with change for a 3 grand in it.

He seems disappointed, he probably thought he was the hero of some huge drug bust where the dealers were millionaires. Collecting all the packets into it and retrieving your spray can from the case you close it.

"I'm sorry but I must leave you now. I truly mean nothing against you and your employer but next time put a little more effort into trying to kill me. And I also hope if we ever meet again it will be on better terms. Being chased gets tiresome after a while." you get up from your seat and make your way around the table.

You leave him standing in the middle of the storehouse as you make your way to the door.

When you reach the exit you look back at him before you walk out. "You should know not every time you strike a match it will burn."

Closing the door behind you, giving your spray can a good shake hearing the metal bob fly back and forth in the container you write on the front of the door: 53rd Fire, in bright yellow.

Let him think about that for a while. You smile. Retard like him would never figure it out. But then again that was the point.

Taking off your mask you let your (h/c) hair down freeing your face from its confinement. The sun has just started to set and you make your way back to the factory. Though you don't want to admit it, your feeling that both of those encounters are connected.

The man at the bar and the one who'd come to give you the fake address. You couldn't put your finger on it, but they seemed a little too off.

Not wanting to think about it anymore you walk home as the sun sets on your shoulders. Nether of the men had forced you to do anything, if they truly wanted something they could have gotten it.

You don't give it a second thought. You should have.


	3. Fallen Hero

YAY! Chapter 3 I feel horribl releasing this so late and having written it about 2 weeks ago but I needed to fix it up and update it which do to school work and tae kwon doe and black belt shit was impossibl my week has been a mishmashed portrait of chaos and hell

Chaos is fun but hell is just a pain in the mother fucking ass

I don't own any of these characters I write about so don't come hatin on me for tht shit and if u don't like hetalia u can go screw yourself in a well and hit th friggin back button

I'm sorri for my horribl America and England impersonations but please bare with me

3rd chapter YUPP! This is where it finally starts gettin good!

Enjoy!

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Chapter~3

Sprawled out on the mess of blankets you call a bed you lie awake trying to fall asleep. You were moving your location again tomorrow seeing someone had found you, but you were having second thoughts about your business.

Stealing and reselling drugs was your specialty. Well anyone can sell something so stealing was your specialty. But Stealing and making a profit out of it isn't really something you'd consider a passion. Sure it's how you made a living, but it was also wrong in a way you didn't like to get into. Ethics made your brain hurt.

There was also a lot of risk in your job. You'd been caught more than once and you had scars to prove it. It wasn't something you're proud of but it seems dealers don't like thieves. Kinda something like that stupid kiddie show with the creepy Hispanic girl and the backpack and the rabid monkey screaming "Swiper no Swiping! Swiper no Swiping!" And the creepy Hispanic chick had all those other talking animal friends who weren't real. That my friend is called Schizophrenia. But what if the fox had a sickly mother and wanted to give supplies in the backpack to her? And what's it gonna do telling a fox that's named Swiper not to swipe? You believe this is against the purpose.

Childhood memories weren't your specialty either.

Your parents had died in a car crash when you were six. The preschool teacher had to tell you mommy and daddy weren't coming home. Not that you really got what they had meant seeing you'd been too young to understand. Sometimes at night in the orphanage you'd wait for your parents to pick you up. The orphanage had been just another day care center for you. But when someone had come to take you away you refused to go screaming that your mommy was still at work and that she'd come to pick you up real soon. You grew up without knowing your real parents and the ones who adopted you, you'd never cared enough for to listen to. They were all just replacement that pitied you and thought they would make you feel all better. Sure...There you go, reason you have a mixed sense of right and wrong.

You didn't want to keep thinking about it. Memories like that were painful.

Instead you reach into you (color) jacket that is covering your upper body and take out the (favorite chocolate brand) bar biting off a piece.

Floor boards creek a few levels down. You freeze. This is an old factory no one knows where it is. Its been long forgotten, no one came in. Though when people do try to find you it isn't impossible to narrow out the place you've been staying in. Making sure not to move from your place you know that shifting your weight too much could trigger a moan from the old flooring. They'd know you were here if you did that.

Resting your head against the wood beneath you, you try to figure out how many people there are. You don't hear anymore noises for a while.

Two, you conclude. The footsteps make their way to the second floor. You feel your heart rate start to rise. What if they make it to the fifth floor? You can't move unless you want to let them know your here. Even if you had enough time to get out of the factory you'd have to clear out all your stuff and find a new place to stay.

The pair make their way across the second floor being next to the stair case you hear their voices.

"Britain do we have to be here? It's scary as shit and if that creepo lady really is here I don't wanna see what she really looks like!"

"Alfred shut up you git! You sound like a girl and don't use that name in public what if someone were to hear you?!" British whoever the hell he was and what miserable soul names their kid after a country? And you thought people in America were patriotic...

"Ya! If the lady heard us coming she'd run away right?! Yo White Mask Lady We're Coming To Find You So You Better Run!" that voice sounded familiar... Whoever this asshole was he really didn't want to meet you.

"SHUT UP YOU MORON!" you heard something that sounded like fist hitting face echo through factory along with some pathetic yelping noises...

"Owwww... Arthur why'd you have to hit me so hard... That hurt you bully."

"Good. Now shut up like a good little boy and let's get on with this."

"Your not the boss of me anymore..."

The footsteps stopped. You mentally face palmed, you'd got all work you for nothing. They wouldn't be able to go any further the stair case fell in on its self on the third level.

" H-hey look Arthur the stair case shit itself. Seeing we can't go any further lets just turn back now." you heard whoever this Alfred kid is step back probably wanting to get out of the factory as soon as possible. That was one of the main reasons you'd chosen this place. Creepy as fuck at night.

"Shut up you moron I think I hear something..."

"What? Your not serious Britain, you're not seriously going in there right? The stair case collapsed and all, it's impossible to get up there lets just go."

"..."

"Britain?"

"I said shut up and it's Arthur for now."

You heard the floor board creaking even more. You (e/c) eyes flew open in horror. He was trying to scale the stair way where it had collapsed! Leaping out of your spot on the floor you ran to where your (fav/c) suitcase was, quickly shoving all your belongs into it.

"Ahh! See Alfred I told you she was here! Come on you idiot!"

"I never doubted you, I really just didn't want to come with you in the first place I can't believe I let you convince me to do this shit! I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go! You can't make me see the scary lady I won't go with you you British geezer I don't care what you give me, I'm not going!"

"Fine, I'll go by myself then." you hear him quickly climbing up the broken stairs. Dammit he was fast. Shoving the last of your blankets into the suitcase. You thought about jumping out the window but you're five stories up that a Mary Poppins attempt gone bad sans the umbrella. He was already half way up the fourth floor and you had nowhere to go. Crap and you had thought you could get out of this without your powers. You can morph your body to take the form of a shadow.  
That's right, you have this weird ability that allows you to fade into shadows. Your parents weren't around long enough to find out and you ran away from almost all your foster parents that way. It was also one of the reasons you were so good at stealing things.

Hiding your (fav/c) suitcase in the corner you found the darkest shadow in the room and felt as your body began to connect with it. An electric like spark flew up your arm and buried its way under your skin when you touched the shadow. Quickly the sensation filled your entire body. Feeling as the particles of your body started to space apart and meld with the darkness you watched as your hands started to fade, coloring your (s/c) skin the shade of the night.

You were completely invisible. You checked where you put your suitcase hidden in the corner. Almost as invisible as you. You waited for the British man to break into your room.

Almost exactly as you'd thought he would, he burst through door. Slamming it open with his shoulder he came running into the room illuminated only by the moon that shown through the window that led to the fire escape.

He stopped as he saw no one in the room.

Wait a minute... You know this man. He was the one who'd caught you at the bar the other night. Gold like blond hair, Emerald eyes, Tux, And those eyebrows... You snickered a bit. He could really use a waxing treatment but they were pretty damn hot. You'd a feeling he was going to pop up again.

"I know you're in here. Where are you..." he walked the space of the room searching. He'd never find you but you heart was beating so fast it felt like you weren't hiding at all.

"How could she have gotten away that fast? I swore I heard her footsteps not too much early before I entered the room. Yet she's nowhere in sight."

Sight? No shit Sherlock you're a cracking shadow.

"YO! BRITAIN! IS SHE UP THERE?!"

You could basically see the vein popping out of his head. His caterpillar eyebrows furrowed and he looked absolutely adorable. You couldn't resist silently laughing at his face.

"I thought I told you not to call me that you git! Can you not hold a thought in that rock you call your brain for more than five minutes?! You Americans are all the same!"

Ohhhh Ouch...

"I AM AMERICA YOU FAT ASS SCONE LOVING GEEZER! HAHAHAHA! YOU'VE GOT NOTHING ON ME TEA LOVING CREEP!"

He was fucking fuming smoke at the ears this was hilarious.

"YOU DIRTY LITTLE UNGRATEFUL MORON, YOUR THE ONE WHO'S STUFFING HAMBURGERS DOWN YOUR THROAT EVERY FIVE SECONDS AND NOW YOUR CALLING ME A FAT ASS?! I CAN'T WAIT TIL THE DAY YOU EAT SO MUCH THAT YOU BECOME OBESE!"

"IN YOUR DREAMS MONARCH DICK WIPE!"

You'd never had a TV before but this was better than whatever the hell was cable.

"AMERICA WHEN I GET DOWN THERE I SWEAR THE STAIR CASE ISN'T GOING TO BE THE ONLY THING THAT'S DISFUNCTIONAL!"

You could hear the so-called Alfred laughing his ass off two floors below you. Funny thing is, five minutes ago you bet he'd scream if he saw a spider.

You looked back at the British man across from you, Arthur you believed his name was. His face was bright red and he looked so absolutely Cute you probably hug him if you weren't a shadow. But something caught his eye that seemed to take his attention away from his companion downstairs.

Your suitcase! He walked over to the corner of the room it was hidden in. You weren't able to hide large objects with you when you hide in the shadows you mentally face palmed for not practicing more with your skills.

Jumping from one shadow to another across the walls so that you made it to the (fav/c) suitcase before he did. It was covered mostly by shadows so you were able to grab it without having it look like your hands were sticking out of the wall.

You could walk out of shadows but you would simply look like black figure of yourself completely made of shadow. You'd done it before though you scared the hell out of some kid who fainted at the sight of you. Probably crapped his pants ass well. You decided not to do that again.

It was also impossible to speak when you were a shadow so being silent was no problem.

"Arthur? Did you get killed dude?"

"Shut up I think I found something." He walked closer to you and the (fav/c) suitcase. Before you can try to hide it he picks up the (fav/c) suitcase tearing your hand and ripping it out of your grip. Your hand quickly melds back together. An obnoxious part to your ability is you tear. Like literally someone could rip you in half like a piece of paper.

"Alfred! I think I found her suitcase!" he turned his head towards the stair case to make his voice echo enough for the other man to hear him.

He started walking away. You hesitated you didn't want him seeing you as a shadow but you also had not only your life savings in the suit case but your business too.

Leaping out of the shadow you quickly drop and deliver a kick to his legs that swept him out from underneath himself.

"Gahh! What the bloody hell?!" he said catching himself with his hands, springing up in a fighting stance. He still hadn't seen you yet.

Picking up the (fav/c) suitcase from where he dropped it sticking to the shadows you hold the suitcase away from you as you run in the darkness of the wall.

The man watched horrified as the (fav/c) suitcase was carried away by well seeing you were invisible, nothing.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?! HOW DOES THAT EVEN WORK!" he screamed purely terrified. You'd laugh if you could.

Recovering from his shock he jumped at you trying to get your suitcase again. You headed to the stairs hoping you could get past both of them then jump out one of the lower windows. No Mary Poppins based deaths for you today.

Jumping down most of the stairs you tried to keep to the wall avoiding the moonlight as much as possible. Running across the fourth floor you cleared in quickly but the Brit was on your tail. He was moving way too fast. If you weren't a shadow you most likely would not able to get away from him. As a shadow your agility was increased immensely.

"Grrrrr this shouldn't even physically possible! ALFRED! GRAB THE FLYING SUITCASE WHEN YOU SEE IT!" he shouts his thick British accent ringing the factory.

"WHAT?! I'M NOT GRABBING A POSSESSED SUITCASE!" you could hear Alfred voice shaking from where you were.

"I'LL BRING YOU TO BURGER KING IF YOU CATCH IT!"

Burger King? He couldn't possibly be motivated by a grease wretched shit hole like that.

"FUCK YA! NO CREEPY ASS GHOST GETS BETWEEN ME AND MY BURGERS! BRING IT ON GHOSTY ASS!"

This guy is pathetic.

You clear the third floor knowing you won't be able to jump yet, well that is without breaking your head. Dodging several attempts by the Brit to get your suitcase you head for the stair case. You just need to get by Alfred and you'll be able to jump the nearest window.

As you leap over the broken stairs flying over the gap looking up you realize that you will crash right into Alfred. He rips your hand and grabs the (fav/c) suitcase but as he does you crash right into your chest.

Grab him and you might not be able to get out of this unrecognized.

Take one step back and you'll fall blindly into the dark abyss that consumes the bottom floor, meeting the ground could mean the loss of a few limbs and possibly your life.

Almost falling backwards into the hole in the stair case you grab the front of his shirt to stabilize you and wrap your arms around his well built torso. Unable to move you just cling to him. Terrified that if you move just an inch you'd fall. You can't bring yourself to let go of him.

"What the... ?" He says softly into your hair. Succumbed by the same shock as you. Unable to register any thoughts he just stands there.

He looks down at you to see you for the first time, but he sees nothing in the darkness "AHHHHHHHH!" he drops the suitcase and pushes you off him jumping back almost falling down the stairs.

Alfred's reaction sent you backwards making you fall backwards into the space where the stairs had collapsed. You silently screamed as you fell the the empty air your shadow form knitting back together in mid air.

You tried to twist so that you could brace yourself for when you hit the second floor but half way there you hit hard ground. Crashing into a pool of limbs on the floor you moan in pain. Mother Fucker, of course the first floor was made of cement.

You try to get up but a pain develops in your (r/l) arm and you know as the rest of your body knits back together that it's broken. You hold it groaning in pain.

Trying to roll onto your opposite side you feel something broken in your ribs as well. Dammit you hit this one hard.

"Bastard that hurt." you say directing your words at the retard that pushed you.

"...What the hell?" you hear from above you.

"You git! Where is the suitcase?" a rich British accent sounded from above you.

"Hey you! The one down there. Are you okay?"

"Who the bloody hell are you talkin-"

"Okay? You just pushed me down a flight, asshole. You think I'm okay?" you gasp in pain as you roll the wrong way trying to get up.

"Who is that down there?" the clueless Brit asks.

"Not sure but she's hurt." You hear him start going down the stairs. He's coming down to the first floor you realize.

"Hey, we're coming down. Try not move to much." you hear a second pair of footsteps coming down.

Your (e/c) eyes fly open, swimming in agony. Your suitcase! You search around you for where it could have fallen. The darkness is more dense down on the ground floor seeing there's no windows down here. Also the flare of agony that fills your eyes blinds you every time you move wrong.

Catching sight of it you see it's (fav c) case on your ( r/l ) side, the same side as your broken arm...

If they see it they will know who you are... they'll take it away ... They'll take you away. Deciding that there's no other options, you lash out your broken arm pushing it away with everything you have in you.

You hear a blood curtling scream and to your confusion you notice it's your own. Your eyes flash white in horrific pain. Your brain fuzzes and you can't understand anything expect the throbbing agony pulsing through your entire body. Tears were pushed out of your pain filled (e/c) eyes and they streamed onto the ground. You lay there whimpering as you can't do anything but lie on the cold cement floor.

You hear the footsteps louder and faster than they were before. Running even. You look up to see a familiar face.

Crystal blue eyes... He'd come to the storehouse. But no, he wasn't a customer... Who was he? Why did he have that look on his face...? He looked terrified...

You think you might have hit your head but you can't make out any clear thoughts. You couldn't think, the pain ... Oh the pain...

Another face and those eyes... They shone like emeralds ... Where had you seen him before...? He was cute... They both were...

"America what the hell did you do to her...?" He was British? He sounded... Scared.

"I-I don't know. Oh god... How do I fix this...?"

"You can't retard." He had blond hair... It looked silky to the touch... Why was he mad at the other one? He hadn't done anything wrong... Had he?

The British one kneeled down next to you wiping away some of your tears, pushing back some of the (h/c) hair that covered your face drenched with sweat due to your pain. "What's your name, love?"

You smiled a bit through the sharp edges of needle like sparks flowing through you ( l/r) arm. Looking up into the blond ones green eyes you answer. "_-_."

"What a beautiful name. Can you tell me where it hurts _?" he asks you, his voice was so insanely soothing. It sounded like he was singing a beautifully surreal lullaby to you though he was speaking. When you don't answer he asks again. "Can you tell me where the pain is, love?"

"M-my arm... I think it's b-broken. But it's n-not too bad...an-and m-my ribs..." You say wincing a bit trying to get up but falling back down.

He caught you. He smiles brightly down at you. "Now, now _ love. Let's not hurt ourselves even more."

"Hehe... S-sure thing..." you smile back.

"Good. Now, I'm going take you somewhere where you get better. Okay love?"

You nod unable make out the words. He picks you up into his arms, careful not jar your broken one or put too much pressure on your ribs.

You lean limply against his chest, you were so cold and you could feel the warmth of his body through his suit. Nudging your head into the crease of his arm you start to drift off.

You hear them talking again but this time their voices sound farther away.

"Why do you get to carry her?"

You could almost feel the one holding you glare. The space between the two went from room temperature to freezing in seconds. You shift away from the cold.

"You've done enough damage here Alfred... I'll take it from here. Come. We should get _ here to a place she can rest soon. Her injuries aren't good and won't get better by standing here. Let's go Alfred."

"..." His silence sounded like it hurt. You didn't know why but you couldn't feel any pity for him.

You fell into unconsciousness and the darkness filled in around you. And you swore if whoever the man carrying you wasn't holding you like that, you'd fade into the omnibus blackness of the night.


	4. Empty Happiness

blarg i dont have any ideas for the next chapter this is sooooooooo annoying

yep sorry for the wait heres 4

enjoy~

* * *

Chapter~4

Shifting your position away from the light that's coming in through the windows, you open your (e/c) eyes only to be blinded by the brightness of the room you lay in.

You look around the extremely well light room. Your not accustom to such a bright setting, it kinda hurts your eyes. Searching the room for some shadows, to your displeasure you find none.

You notice that someone had treated your broken (r/l) arm and had tended to your fractured ribs. You also noticed a bandage around your head. You didn't remember hitting it but how could you if you actually did?

The room was mostly white and reminded you of those old people homes. Like, when they were too old to live by themselves and then they moved to a place where other people take care of them and shit. The people try to make it all homey and such but it just looks like a hospital room with pretty curtains and a bed instead of an operating table. That's what you were staring at now.

And to set the mood even more you find yourself in a disgusting moldy green hospital gown... Dammit.

Feeling the intense need to put on some new clothes, you try to get up but due to your injuries you fall back down gasping for breath. Trying again, you are able to remove your upper body from the bed long enough for you to grab the bed post and pull the rest of you up. Success.

You walk over to the dresser to find nothing in it but a Lovely (color) silk dress fit with lovely frills, bow ties, and all. It's only long enough to reach a little over your knees and in another drawer you find a set of matching knee-high socks.

You bang your head against the closet door. Oh fuck the hell no. You can't possibly wear that.

You look around for your jacket and are surprised to see it hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Funny it's (fav/c) material goes perfect with the dresses (color)...

You find it less hard stripping from the revolting gown than putting on the dress. Finding much difficulty changing into clothes with a broken arm you almost resolve to wearing nothing but your jacket, bra, and underwear. Tsk tsk. What a naughty girl you are.

Finally putting your broken arm through its sleeve you are able to do the same with the other one. And of course you have to button up the back...

Deciding that that's not going to happen for a while, you retrieve your (color)leather jacket and put it over the dress hiding the open back.

Looking in the mirror you see you look surprisingly good. Putting you (h/c) hair in a ponytail with your good arm you notice how low the neck line really is.

God! Who picked out this fucking dress anyway?! The neck line was even lower because the back wasn't done! You could see the top of your (color) lacy bra in this dress! You felt a flush starting to rise in your neck splotching the (s/c) skin over your nose bright red. You frantically tried pulling up the neck line.

Seeing your combat boots in the corner of the room you stomp over to them and sloppily lace them up with difficulty only adding to your annoyance. Whoever picked out this dress had to be the biggest pervert you've ever not met.

Peaking out of the doorway you look to see if anyone's in the hall. Seeing no one you close the door quietly and inch down the hallway as stealth like as possible. Yeah that's right Ninja in an ass dress!

"_-_?"

You freeze. Your afraid to turn around seeing how your neck line in dangerously low. Sneaking a peak over your shoulder you look to see the British guy wearing the suit holding his sleeve over his nose, face bright red.

"Umm... Yes?"

"W-what are you wearing?" he said his voice muffled. The sleeve he had covering his nose was also cover his mouth.

" I-it was all I could find in the dresser... And I umm..." at this point you were blushing too.

"H-how did you even get that on with your arm like that and... Oh ... Oh my god whatever you do just please don't-OH MY GOD!" You see blood dripping from the jacket sleeve he had so protectively over his nose.

"Don't do what?" you turn around stupidly like the dumb fuck you are giving him a lovely glance at your not so very well covered breasts.

"BLOODY HELL I MEANT DON'T TURN AROUND!" he basically screams letting go of his nose for a moment spewing blood everywhere, "GAHH! EXCUSE ME, I NEED TO CHANGE MY SUIT!" he sprinted in the other direction dripping blood as he went.

Face palming, you zip up your jacket blushing bright red, god you could fucking put Clifford The Big Red Dog to shame. Whatever. You never liked those stupid books anyway.

Trying to calm down you continue in the opposite direction only managing to get yourself lost. Seriously?! Can't you do anything right?! First basically flashing the guy that probably saved your life, then getting lost in a building that's probably x 3 the size of the White House. You should have stayed put. He was bound to come back eventually right? And hopefully with some more appropriate clothing you could wear. That or he'd passed out due to blood loss sometime half way through the museum of a house, he'd been losing blood pretty fast the last time you'd seen him.

Sighing you figured he wouldn't be popping up again for a while so you continued down the maze of hallways.

On your journey through space and corridor you found yourself listening to music being played somewhere further down the hall. The source of possible life beckoned you to it where you realized the music wasn't being played, it was being blasted.

Heavy base guitar sent vibrations through the walls which seemed to shake themselves. A picture frame rattled on the wall threatening to jump off any moment. You hear the song "Hopeless" by Breaking Benjamin being played echoing hard rock music through the corridors.

Covering your ears you try to make it through the hallways without blasting your eardrums. Through the heavy base and the vibrations through the walls you can't hear the footsteps coming from behind you.

"THE FUCK?!" You half jumped out of your skin hearing, a shocked yell and the sound of something crashing behind you. You certainly were not used to people sneaking up on you. You certainly were not willing to get used to it either.

You turn to see the Blue eyed American who had seemed to be quiet surprised to see you laying flat on his ass looking up at you.

He seemed different from the last time you'd seen him. His Crystal Blue eyes were suited with a pair of black rings stating he'd not been getting enough sleep. His shirt was the same with a large amount more wrinkles than before; sleep wear as well. Nose and the rims of his eyes were slightly red; had been crying?

"Ah hello?" you asked suspiciously.

"Oh Hey. It's you, _ right?" He seemed to be trying to coolly make acquaintance with you. He seemed calm and collected but something flashing under those Blue eyes begged to differ.

"Yes. And you may be?"

" I'm ah... Alfred F. Jones, yeah" You raised an eyebrow now he was forgetting his own name? Alfred seemed a bit uneasy as he continued.

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that whole thing back at the factory and I swear I didn't mean to..." he drifted off glancing away from you.

Now what was he talking about? God this kid's was a mess. But fuck the look in his eyes was like he was a fucking kicked abandoned puppy god.

"Um, listen kid." you tried to comfort him (yeah you suck at that) "I don't know what you're going on about but I don't remember anything that your suggesting happened. Actually I don't know how I got here either, care to tell me where I am?"

Alfred gave you a confused look. "Wait, dude you're telling me you can't remember like anything?"

"Umm no. Thought I already confirmed that but if you're that slow I have no memory of any of these so-called events. Also I'm pretty sure I'm a girl thank you very much." That was a bit of a lie. Not the girl part! You are very sure you are a girl. But the other thing you only remembered a snap of time where you were being picked up by that British guy and Alfred standing there in a sort of shock. Then it all got fuzzy. You couldn't find it in your memory how you'd ended up in the Brits arms or why but how could you? I mean, falling from that height pffft you shouldn't know your own fucking name but well there are advantages to not being human. But of course you don't know that.

You felt those Blue orbs looking you up and down making you extremely uncomfortable. You watched his eyes change from shock to sadness to surprise and wait wait wait wait wait what the mothering fuck... was that fucking... lust? Oh god you retard...

THE FUCKER HAD A FUCKING PERFECT VIEW RIGHT UP YOUR FUCKING SHORT ASS DRESS! MIGHT AS WELL BE A FUCKING I-MAX CINEMA FILM DUMB FUCK AND FOR AN EXTRA 5 FUCKING DOLLARS WOULD YOU LIKE IN 3D AS FUCKING WELL?!

As if fucking flames were burning your (s/c) skin your face was scorched with red. And let me tell you way worse than before.

"YOU FUCKING PERVERT!" With your combat boot you pressed the fuckers head into the floor.

You could hear his smirk as he spoke. "Damn, this is an even better view and I'd thought I had best one I could." If possible you blushed even harder, damn you were fucking fuming.

You jumped back kicking him in the side of the head with enough force to break it but not before Alfred quickly hunched over making your kick him in the back instead though the force still slamming his face into the wall.

"Asshole." Alfred laughed and struggled to get up not sure whether to rub his back or his head. I wouldn't either both looked like they would bruise pretty damn bad. You my friend, need to learn to control your anger. I know he's a pervy asshole buy you can't just go around kicking people like that you'll kill them.

You turned sharply and walked down the hallway away from Alfred resisting the urge to beat the shit out of him. See? Good.

Without turning you gave him flung him the bird- WAIT THAT BETTER HAVE BEEN FOR ALFRED BITCH I CAN MAKE YOU JUMP OFF A FUCKIN CLIFF IF I WANT TO, WATCH IT! You heard his laughter echo through the corridor behind you over the blasting music. You swore you lost at least x5 the amount the times of brain cells and ear drums thingys (yeah there's no name for those so deal) on that perv than you should have.

You continued to walk until you couldn't hear the music anymore no less lost than you were before. Maybe if you weren't such a short tempered dumb ass you would've asked him how to get out of this maze of a house. Well it's to late for that now.

Back in the ear blasting corridor Alfred stood.

"HOPELESS  
I'm falling down,  
FILTHY  
I can't wake up,  
I can not hold on,  
I will not let go,  
WORTHLESS  
It's over now,  
GUILTY  
There's no way out,  
I can not hold on,  
I will not let go

HOPELESS

HOPELESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

The song ended and the CD player searched through the machine for other disks to play failing the "Dear Agony" Album started over. Numbly walking back to his room America pressed the power button, falling backwards onto his bed he took off his glasses rubbing his eyes.

Head becoming to heavy to hold fell into this hands, elbows digging into his knees.

It was a miracle that she'd survived even with the injuries that she'd gotten out of that fall with. Even though he hadn't meant to, America couldn't seem to forgive himself. When was the last time he'd been anything but the hero?

The American chuckled. Why did that saying of his seem so empty?

He really was

Hopeless.


End file.
